In the evening I was present at a real Oriental entertainment in the house of this friendly family.

Mats, carpets, and pillows were spread out on the terrace of the house, and a very low table placed in the centre.  Round this the family sat, or rather reclined, cross-legged.  I was accommodated with a chair somewhat higher than the table.  Beside my plate and that of the Consul were laid a knife and fork, that appeared to have been hunted out from some lumber closet; the rest ate with a species of natural knife and fork, namely—­fingers.

The dishes were not at all to my taste.  I had still too much of the European about me, and too little appetite, to be able to endure what these good people seemed to consider immense delicacies.

The first dish appeared in the form of a delicate pilau, composed of mutton, cucumbers, and a quantity of spice, which rendered it more unpalatable to me than common pilau.  Then followed sliced cucumbers sprinkled with salt; but as the chief ingredients, vinegar and oil, were entirely wanting, I was obliged to force down the cucumber as best I could.  Next came rice-milk, so strongly flavoured with attar of roses, that the smell alone was more than enough for me; and now at length the last course was put on the table—­stale cheese made of ewe’s milk, little unpeeled girkins, which my entertainers coolly discussed rind and all, and burnt hazel-nuts.  The bread, which is flat like pancakes, is not baked in ovens, but laid on metal plates or hot stones, and turned when one side is sufficiently done.  It tastes better than I should have expected. {101}

Our conversation during dinner was most interesting.  Some of the family spoke a little Italian, but this little was pronounced with such a strong Greek accent, that I was obliged to guess at the greater portion of what was said.  No doubt they had to do the same with me.  The worthy Consul, indeed, affirmed that he knew French very well; but for this evening at least, his memory seemed to have given him the slip.  Much was spoken, and little understood.  The same thing is said often to be the case in learned societies; so it was not of much consequence.

There are many different kinds of cucumber in Syria, where they are a favourite dish with rich and poor.  I found numerous varieties, but none that I found superior to our German one.  Another favourite fruit is the water-melon, here called “bastek.”  These also I found neither larger in size nor better flavoured than the melons I had eaten in southern Hungary.

The Consul’s house seems sufficiently large; but the architectural arrangement is so irregular that the extended area contains but few rooms and very little comfort.  The apartments are lofty and large, extremely ill-furnished, and not kept in the best possible order.

I slept in the apartment of the married daughter; but had it not been for the beds standing round, I should rather have looked upon it as an old store-closet than a lady’s sleeping-room.